


The Witch's Quickening

by ymaface



Series: The Witch's Quickening [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 05 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymaface/pseuds/ymaface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mordred and Morgana are reunited. Spoilers for 5x02</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Morgana had changed. She used to dress in rich colourful dresses with only the softest of satin slippers. Her hair had once coiled down her back in rich glossy waves, parting down the middle to reveal her beautiful features. She had charmed Alvarr, the Druids, and the court of Camelot all those years ago with just the turn of her head. He'd been just a boy back then but even he had admired her hold over others and taken pleasure in impressing her with his little magic tricks. Well, his tricks had changed now and so had she. She was forbidding, cold, and an utter mess. The severe black clothes she wore now were patched in several places and he could see that the hem of her dress was starting to unravel - echoing its mistress's mind perhaps. Her hair was knotted like a robin's nest and pinned back away from her face to be long neglected. He could imagine getting his fingers caught in that hair. Her eyes though, they were the same, although somewhat icier than before. The last time he had seen those eyes they had been soft and kind as she held him close. She had not yet seen the real cruelty of men and the hard harsh winters of the north. They seemed almost bottomless now.

And yet she had lost none of her allure. While before she had counted on her soft smiles and dancing eyes she now managed to silence the brutish of men with a single charged look; it had worked marvellously on his companion. She was all marble now, unmoving and stiff. The wind had howled against them all, making them huddle into their furs and cloaks, but she had been unmoved. Her hair had fanned out around her face but her expression never faltered. She seemed more in control of her powers now but less in control of herself.

She beckoned him to follow her up inside the tower and then asked him to dine with her. His companions had exchanged sour looks at it but he'd ignored them and followed without complaint. Once inside she had shed her thick furs and muttered a spell to make the flicker of light in the fireplace burn more brightly. "Sit. Eat," she had instructed and he'd willingly complied. The fare was tasteless and rough but he hadn't eaten in days and fell on it ravenously. Morgana did not take even a bite but instead filled up a goblet with some thick wine and sat so that she could study him.

He tried not to look at her but his skin prickled under her examination. He had changed a lot too; from a wide eyed boy to a man. No longer did he look around himself in wonder or trust the first stranger who offered him friendship. The men downstairs were nothing to him – _poachers of some sort_ , who had shared their catch but nothing else. He had learnt the hard way how to avoid detection and notice and it had given him a hollow hungry sort of look. He ate the meat straight off the bone without even removing his gloves. "I feared you dead," she murmured suddenly. "It is dangerous to those of us with magic."

He took his time to reply. It has not been easy, he told her. The fear of being burnt at the stake had taught him not to trust anyone.

"Even I?" she asked quietly and he felt himself start to fall into that gaze like so many others before him.

He smiled in response, the expression strange and unfamiliar to his lips. It did nothing to show his real thoughts only to make him look as though he was hiding an amusing secret. Morgana was peeling an apple with a short blunt looking knife. He noticed how the juices slowly ran down her slim fingers and when she brought them to her lips he could not help but feel his heart tense.

Her expression turned knowing.

"Have you missed me, Mordred?"

"No." He had never missed her. He'd been excited to see her on those rare occasions but they were far too short and far apart to weave hope into them. He had never expected to see her again after Alvarr's little play and when he'd first heard of her being this far north he'd until now resisted coming to see her. Morgana had been a young woman when he was still a boy. He remembered those moments where she held him close to her, cupping his head gently and smiling so warmly. As though pleased to see him. As though she loved him.

He'd admired her more than he could ever put into words. She had been the most beautiful woman in all of Camelot, in the whole land – she  _still_  was.

When she used her powers to push back his chair he sounded no protest. She was watching him, expecting him to ask what she was up to, but he took pleasure in disappointing her. He remained silent with the odd smile upon his lips.

She came to him then, moving slowly and deliberately. He watched the way her hips swayed and how the firelight danced in her blank eyes. He wondered if he could put something back into her eyes and the thought was enough to pull him to his feet. He was taller than her now and when she was close enough he could see the deliberate curves of her breasts. He thought of how she used to hold him to her chest, how he'd shut his eyes and taken comfort nestled there. He took hold of her and pulled her mouth up to his own.

He tasted ice, then warmth, and then underneath that  _magic_.

The knowledge of what he was doing excited him. That it was  _her_ , Morgana,pressed against him. His lips moved against hers fiercely and she had her hands in his hair. His own fingers skimmed across the curves of her body, the knots in her hair, and then finally the surprising softness of her skin.

He lifted her and laid her back on the table. Goblets and plates magically smashed against the walls and the wine splashed across her cheek. She was tugging at him, impatient as always, and kissing him back with such fervour that he used his powers to slam her wrists back against the wood. She moaned then and the sound brought a laugh to his lips. He unlaced himself, hardly noticing the shaking of his hands, and then pushed himself inside of her.

At once he could tell she was still a maid and the satisfaction of knowing that made him gather her in his arms. Their lips met once more but after that they were both lost in the motions of sex. Her hands had crawled beneath his tunic and he felt her nails dig into his flesh but this only enhanced his pleasure. In return he bit down on her neck. When she came she threw her head back, her eyes flashing fire, and the image alone was enough to make him follow.

They were quiet afterwards. She tugged her skirts back into place and adjusted her chemise while he dressed. When finished she offered him a goblet of wine which he took, murmuring his thanks. They both sat before the fire in compatible silence before Mordred finally spoke. "You were a maid."

"As were you," she retorted.

He smiled and might've replied - but the sound of loud bells cut him off. Morgana visibly stilled and he thought he saw a flash of apprehension cross her perfect features. She put her goblet down slowly and then the bells started again. A grin suddenly came her lips.

"Arthur. He's here."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordred finds her

"Forgive me," he whispered. His words escaped his mouth in a mist that shone under the full moon before evaporating into nothing. He had tried several times now to make contact with Morgana but each time received no reply. She's angry at me, he considered, and she has right to. He'd stabbed her right in the back – literally – and still saw the look of betrayal every night in his dreams. She'd turned to him, her eyes wide and her lips parted in surprise. She'd whispered his name before falling to the ground and he'd wiped her blood off his dagger using his cloak. She would be furious at him and want nothing more than to string him up by his insides and cut him to ribbons. He closed his eyes now and pictured her pacing back and forth, alone except for the wolves and whatever insipid human she had charmed to help her this time. She always managed to find adoration even among the lowest of creatures and she would never stop hounding for Arthur's blood.

He had saved Arthur. He had stood behind her as her knife toyed with him but then stabbed her. In his gratitude Arthur had made him a sworn knight of Camelot and so Mordred was now exactly in the place he had schemed to be. He would crush these mortals from inside, playing on their weaknesses and their doubts. They loved the idea of helping him; helping the Druid repent for his past actions because he spouted soft promises of friendship and loyalty. He would start with the other knights, eventually leaving Arthur friendless, and then turn to his queen for everybody knew she was the real wisdom behind the crown. Without her he was vulnerable and open for defeat. Mordred would give it to him and then magic would rule over Camelot once more. He remembered the day so long ago when his father had been executed in the courtyard in front of him. Not a single child would have to feel that pain again…the pain of being alone, being vulnerable, being afraid of themselves.

And Morgana will help me, I'll explain and she will forgive me. I stabbed her, yes, but it did not kill her. She cannot die from a mortal wound, he decided, I can give her the throne of Camelot.

The other knights made it very plain that they distrusted him. Why did you not let him go as soon as you knew who he was? They asked. Why did you take him to the Lady Morgana in the first place? Why did she trust you?

"If I hadn't you would not be standing here now," he'd coolly answered Gwaine. "You'd still be digging the earth for Lady Morgana."

"Aye, while you supped upstairs with her," Gwaine quipped.

Mordred went to speak but before he could Arthur appeared at his side. Since his knighting Arthur had made it very clear to the other knights to come to him if they had any issue about Mordred. He took his slights as his own. Like the fool he was. "Morgana saved him as a child. Before the darkness took her…" he told them. "But don't we have practice to get to? Or are you going to stand her pecking like old hens, Gwaine?"

Gwaine laughed, appeased, and followed his king to the training area. Mordred joined them shortly but he had no interest in sword play. He was quick with a knife but preferred his powers to hacking away with a sword…but obviously this would not sit well here. Arthur thought he had put magic aside, as though you could simply take it off like a cloak, but Merlin watched him and so he attempted to join in. Merlin was as cautious as his king was not. Mordred did not call him Emrys again and they had a silent agreement to keep each other's magic secret but Merlin was not at ease with him yet. He didn't mistrust him but he didn't trust him either. The same could be said for the physician Gaius, though Mordred had only spoken to him briefly.

He spent a week there before he got to speak to the queen. Guinevere treated him as kindly as her husband did and seemed to take it upon herself to act as an example to the other knights. She spoke to him softly, her speech very open and gentle. She was obviously of low birth and not comfortable when ordering the servants about. Mordred was polite but back in his rooms he sneered at her. From listening to the servants' gossip he had gathered that Gwen (as she liked to be called) had once been Morgana's maidservant until she'd caught Arthur's eye. She had also been disloyal to Arthur with a knight called Lancelot. That could be useful.

That night he tried to contact Morgana again but to the same result. She was either ignoring him or too far away.

Weeks passed before he heard anything of her and it came, as always, unexpectedly.

They were all feasting in the great hall in honor of some visiting princess Elena. Mordred was sat between Gwaine and Elyan and sipping ale when the doors were burst open. A servant came running in and he begged the king to follow him. The man was almost sobbing from fear. The rest of them followed Arthur outside to the courtyard where a dark figure waited for them. He was not made from flesh yet looked too solid to be a specter. He was dressed in heavy chainmail and a dark cloak that hid his face.

"Who are you?" Arthur shouted.

Or rather, what are you? Mordred thought.

The shadow knight held out a hand in response and dropped something bloody on the ground. A shout went up when they realized it was the head of Ser Percival. A blue handprint was clearly visible on the back of his shaved head.

"Your time is up Arthur Pendragon," it hissed. The shadow was melting away before them as it spoke… "You must come to her. Alone. Every day that you do not somebody else you love will be killed. You will lose everything, one way or another…"

It vanished and the court screamed.

Mordred waited until he was alone in his rooms and then he laughed harder than he ever had at the gull of his mistress. She certainly knew how to be theatrical. The ladies of the court had sobbed and screamed at the horrible sight of the decapitated head while the men discussed what should be done. Elyan, shaking with rage, had suggested they all ride out to meet Morgana and destroy her once and for all. Gwen had been fearful, she knew of Morgana's strength and her unpredictability. She has tricked us all before. She is cunning.

Gwaine had agreed. "It will not be that straight forward. It never is with her."

Mordred had been impressed by how accurately they knew her although he knew he shouldn't be; they had known her long before he had. They had been her friends, her confidants, and the people she had once fought beside. Arthur, as he always did when Morgana was mentioned, closed up and dismissed them all. He needed to think, he'd told them.

All those years ago Arthur had saved him, to appease Morgana more than anything else. His heart must be breaking, he thought. To have that person betray you again and again.

He rode out to her that night. Putting the guards to sleep had been easy, as was finding her. He rode towards her like a compass. She was calling for him now and every now and then he heard her whisper in his ear, murmuring his name over and over like a chant. He rode solidly for hours until his legs and thighs cramped up but didn't stop until he reached his destination.

He found her standing by the lake, her figure illuminated in the moonlight. He dismounted and only then did she look at him. Her face was as peaceful as ever but this was only a mask to hide her feelings; inside he could sense her rage.

"Forgive me," he said.

She considered him for a moment before speaking. He saw her take in his new crimson cloak with distaste. "Tell me why I shouldn't flay the deceitful skin off your back?"

He smiled – he couldn't help it. She looked glorious bathed in the moonlight. They were standing by the lake's edge, the sound of the waves intensified by the surrounding silence, and a warm wind ruffled the furs of her cloak. It was a beautiful place. A place of lovers, sonnets and paintings. Hearing her speak so viciously here contrasted wonderfully.

"I knew you would survive it," he told her. "And I needed to get close to Arthur."

Mordred reached towards her but she batted him away furiously. His eyes narrowed. "You betrayed me. You're like everybody else." Mordred gestured to the lake and it started to part in two. Beyond it, they both knew, lay Avalon. "Stop it!" she hissed and he complied.

"Not like everybody else," he quipped. "Like you. Your little stunt today has frightened them. Arthur has locked himself away, Guinevere cowers from all, and the knights are divided. Who will you kill next?"

"Anyone. All of them," she retorted. "They'll all be wiped out eventually."

"You are just one person, Morgana."

"I am a high priestess!"

"And they have beaten you again and again," he pointed out. He reached for her again and brushed her cheek, ignoring her protests. Her skin was cold beneath his touch but as smooth as ice. Her gaze flickered up to his and he felt her breath quicken against his neck. "Join me. I will crush them from within and then magic will rule supreme," he promised. He leant forward to whisper in her ear, admiring as he did so the curve of her snow white neck. "I will give you a crown of gold. I will make you queen."

"You are only one person," she whispered back, toying with his earlier words. "How can you hope to bring them all down?"

He smirked, backing away. "I will start by turning Arthur's loyal knights against him. Then I will ensnare the queen. Without her Arthur is weak. Without her he will be easy to manipulate…"

"You think to seduce the loyal Guinevere?"

"Not I. She is too soft, too weak. I will pair her off with one of the knights, even the court jester if it is needed. It is said she has betrayed him before," Mordred added and Morgana sniggered.

"She does not tempt you?" Morgana asked coyly.

"She is all sunshine; tiring, dull, burns too brightly. I am a servant for the moon."

Her eyes looked white in the glow of the moon and he kissed her, almost gently. She did not return it but she did not pull away either. He dropped to his knees; he was a knight in a red cloak swearing an oath to his beautiful lady. Only this wasn't a poem. He was a Druid and she a high priestess. There was nothing chivalrous about the way his eyes burned into hers, the way he held her waist, the way he kissed just below her stomach. "I am your servant," he declared as her hands ran through his hair.

"If you betray me again, I will kill you," Morgana promised and her breath hitched in her throat as he repeated the motion. Mordred pulled her down then and they kissed passionately, desperately almost. Once more the taste of her magic was irresistible.

He would make her queen. He would make her his queen. His moonlight queen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tourney

 

As expected Arthur declared he would ride out alone to meet Morgana. He would not endanger the lives of any more of his friends by staying like a coward. Guinevere was the first to protest. "You're playing into her trap," she'd insisted, but Arthur would not change his mind. The death of Ser Percival had shaken the court. Everybody was curious as to how Morgana managed to capture him from behind Camelot's walls without anyone noticing. The last person to see Percival, alive that is, had been his manservant that morning who told Arthur that Percival had been acting a little oddly.  _She weaved her wishes into his mind_ , Mordred thought, and that meant she knew a way of sneaking into the city as spells like that required close contact.  _Unless she has a spy…_ Would she tell him if she had? Probably not; she kept a lot of secrets close to her chest and after his little stunt with the dagger she would not divulge all of her plans to him again.

When he was sure everyone was finished Mordred spoke up. "She is lying. Even if you surrender yourself she will take Camelot and slaughter us all. She won't stop."

That made Arthur hesitate and Gwaine agreed. "He's right, Arthur. Sacrificing yourself will not stop her."

"You expect me to just sit still while my people are killed? What if it is you next?" Arthur retorted from his throne.

"A small price to pay, sire," Gwaine shrugged. "I think we should ignore her threat. It'll unsettle her."

"Playing into her fear is what she wants," Guinevere pointed out gently from her king's side. "We should show her that we are above blackmail."

Eventually Arthur had agreed although reluctantly. He shut himself away in his rooms, declaring that he was a coward and that the decision was in their hands. Mordred had to stifle a sneer; whenever it came down to chivalry Arthur could be a pompous arse. He wore his heart on his sleeve and so was constantly disappointed when anyone betrayed him. He was never prepared for the dark times and always expected each day to be golden and harmonious. That was his biggest weakness.

Mordred's room was simple but elegant. It was certainly grander than anything he had been given before. When he was a child he had slept in a low bunk beside his father, the smell of damp and dirt vivid in his memory. After that it had always been tents or meager huts thrown up in whatever wood he was hiding in. Sometimes he had to make do with the ground with his green cloak his only shield against the cold and rain. As he looked around his room in Camelot he admired the painted glass windows, the feather stuffed mattress, and the silk curtains that adorned his bed. They lived in such luxury here and he imagined most took it for granted. Every morning his own manservant brought him good food to break his fast with and even lined up his clothes for the day. When he asked if there was anything else he wanted doing Mordred waved him away. He would be lying if he said he disliked this style of life and most of all enjoyed waking up in the soft bed, the sunlight the only thing rousing him. Under the cover of night he had thoroughly explored the castle and discovered its hidden passages and which room belonged to whom.

Once, after magically unbolting the locks, he had even snuck into Morgana's old room. A thin layer of dust covered everything in the room but other than that it was exactly as he remembered. Guinevere had refused to take this room and nobody else has wanted it so it remained frozen in time. Her trinkets lay untouched, even the thieves were too superstitious to steal them, and he ran his fingers across her jeweled tiaras, her necklaces, the dusty bottles that held her exotic scents. Even her old hairbrush lay by the old gilt mirror and he could picture her very vividly sitting before it while the old Gwen brushed out her luxurious hair. A vase of dead flowers stood beside her bed. It had been a room undoubtedly belonging to a princess with all the comforts befitting her rank. Mordred should have resented her for this almost obscene upbringing but found he couldn't imagine her having anything else. Uther had very obviously spoilt her. So had Arthur. He had overheard the maids gossip about how Arthur had once been completely besotted with Morgana, and everyone at court had been expected them to marry. He'd competed in jousts and melees for the chance to win her favour and had frightened away any competition for her affections. It sounded like a fairytale. He had asked Morgana about it by the lake. "Is it true?" he'd asked and she confirmed it. "For a time he was my knight in shining armor. Uther had been wrong to hide our true relationship away."

He had not felt jealousy before and it was an unsettling feeling. He felt it again when they discussed his plans and she suggested using Gwaine to seduce Guinevere. "He is the most handsome and a charmer as well. It will be the least conspicuous."

"You find him handsome?"

Her smile had been coy. "I have always admired tall dark strangers."

Mordred had not risen to her bait and would not do so. He pushed any feelings of jealousy away as it was childish and made him feel like a fool. He was a powerful druid and would not feel inferior by anyone. He had never considered his appearance before but the maids who cleaned his room and crossed him in the hallways would always blush and stutter out their greetings. He had felt their gazes run across his body and could hear their thoughts as clearly as if they were shouting them out loud. No, he would not rise to her bait.

Arthur stuck to their decision and did not ride out to look for Morgana although Guinevere made sure he was trailed at all times in case he felt a flash of gallantry and snuck out. To their surprise and relief nobody went missing that day and it seemed as though they had beaten Morgana at her own game. The next couple of days turned out to be the same and by the end of the week Guinevere organized a joust to raise morale. It would be a grand affair with all the knights competing and the common folk would be given the day off to come and watch the entertainment. Mordred saw it as an excellent opportunity to begin his plans.

The prize to best jouster would be a ruby ring but all of the knights were more excited about the flowing mead and competing rather than winning. They clapped each other on the backs and traded good hearted insults as they trained, happy to just clown around. Mordred soon saw to this. He stole the necessary supplies from Gaius's chamber and then brewed a potion that would dramatically enhance the drinker's desire to win to complete desperation. He spiked Elyan's mead with it and left the rest to fate. Elyan was the perfect target as his loyalty split between his sister the queen and Arthur, and any misgivings on his parts would reflect badly on his sister too.

He still had to take part in the farce, however. He was not a natural athlete and the training was hard for him, especially so as he was the youngest of the knights. He was unhorsed several times during training and eventually Ser Leon offered a hand to help him up. "You don't enjoy this," he stated, grinning at the younger man's discomfort. "Would you like me to show you some pointers?"

"There are more important things than jousting," he murmured and got to his feet, ignoring the offered hand. He could have easily brewed another potion to sap Leon's skills and transfer than to himself but he had no real desire to do well in the joust. He was more concerned with watching Ser Elyan's certain victory.

When the day of the joust came he was relaxed and in an unsurprisingly good mood. He had his own tent erected by the tourney grounds and inside it was the armor he had to wear. He had none of his own, not even a family crest to adorn his banner, but this all worked in his favour; the court were sympathetic to the poor orphan boy and Arthur gave him a brand new set of armor and had even invited a painter to come and draw him his very own crest. Mordred tried to act thankful and when it came to designing the crest he had only one input – that it should show the full moon in all its glory. The other knights has things like falcons, lions, and even a jug of ale representing them but Mordred was proud of his navy blue and white banner. He had a manservant to help him into the armor and watched in the mirror as he skillfully strapped him in. "Was that all, Ser?"

 _Mordred_.

"Thank you, you may leave."

He waited until the tent flap had fallen behind him before answering.

_Morgana._

_Kill him. He will be competing, he always competes. Have your little puppet finish him for good,_ she urged.

 _Not yet. He will not die yet._  He could sense her disappointment but also her closeness.  _You are in Camelot._

_I would not miss your first victory._

_Pray it goes to plan then._

He finished dressing and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He was nervous about the joust after all. He would not win it and doubted he would even win the first round. He would not be expected to at such a tender age against these battle hard knights but he did not want her to see him fail, even if it was part of the plan.

When he was announced as Ser Mordred he left the tent and plastered a small smile on his face, raising a hand to the cheering crowds. His manservant brought about his horse and handed him the lance when he was seated. He would be facing a relatively unknown knight first and so the crowd was rooting for him to win. They took their positions, he lowered his helm, and then the horns were blown. He charged.

They met and his lance crashed against his opponent's breast, knocking the man straight off his horse. Mordred cantered back to his servant who was waving his banner proudly above his head. He hoped Morgana would see it. He looked up to the royal box and saw Guinevere and several others clapping for him. Arthur must be competing after all.

He was unhorsed against Ser Elyan but took the defeat happily. He stood to the side of the grounds with the other defeated knights and watched as his puppet ruthlessly beat Ser Leon. He saw the look of confusion cross Leon's face when Elyan ignored his hearty jest and turned his back on him. He fought Ser Gwaine next, who was notoriously good in the arena, and to everyone's surprise won again. He had knocked Gwaine to the floor and almost trampled him as he brought around his horse. The crowds were divided now; they liked knights who were chivalrous and light hearted. Watching Elyan ride down his fellow knights so ruthlessly was alarming.

He unhorsed two more knights before he came to Arthur. Elyan could not unhorse the king no matter how desperately he tried and when Arthur knocked him off his horse he drew his sword, swearing a thousand oaths. The crowds gasped and Gwaine and Leon rushed forward to help their king. Arthur was startled. Elyan swore once more and went charging back to his tent, ignoring those who tried to question him. Mordred hid a smile; he would be back to his old self soon enough and blame it all on the adrenaline but nobody else would forget his odd actions. Everything was working out rather nicely.

Arthur was presented with the ruby ring and he gave it predictably to Guinevere, naming her the Queen of Beauty.

"It must be the heat," Leon murmured. "It riles a man's blood."

"Nobody else was a bad loser," Gwaine pointed out. He drank down the rest of his mead and summoned another. "Time to start feasting, I think. Coming, Mordred?"

"I'll be right there," he promised. He let the two saunter back up to the castle and waited while the tourney grounds started to empty. People were laughing and joking, the odd knight already forgotten, but Guinevere and Arthur still wore hurt looks and Merlin was talking in low tones to Gaius.

Mordred scanned the faces of the women who left and was about to give up when he caught the gaze of two icy blue eyes. She was on the other side of the tourney fence wearing a dark blue cloak, the hood pulled up to hide her face. He would bet his life that she was also using magic to glamour her beautiful face to look unrecognisable. Beside the other women in cloaks she could be easily be looked past…but not to him. He wanted to vault the fence and go to her but Arthur was still in the royal box.

Morgana smiled before disappearing.  _You are victorious_.

He was.

He feasted alongside the others and drank perhaps too much of the dark ale. He even laughed at his own unhorsing. He was savoring the moment; especially when Elyan arrived and Leon ignored his greeting.  _It's all falling into place_ , he thought. That evening he even asked one of the maids to dance, causing several of the knights to whistle, but the feel of her body under his hands was not quite right. Her waist was thicker than he expected, her breasts too large, and her face was too open and soft. She was not what he wanted.

"Nothing like a girl after a joust. Nor when the drink's on you," Gwaine laughed and Mordred agreed wholeheartedly.

When he stumbled back to his room, aided by his manservant, he collapsed on the bed but did not go to sleep straight away. He imagined things differently. He imagined that Morgana had been celebrating at the feast too. She would've looked so beautiful in the candlelight, dressed in those soft silks like Guinevere and laughing at the knight's crude jests. He could've gone to her and bowed, asking for her hand in front of Arthur and all of them. He could have put his arms around  _her_ waist as they danced and made  _her_  laugh. It was an acknowledged fact that after a feast the knights would sometimes take maids back up their rooms, their lust fuelled by the wine and ale. He imagined her slipping into his room now. She would grin and let him pull her down onto the bed with him after he kissed the spot on her neck that he knew she liked. She would straddle him, her hips rolling against his until she was panting with desire, and then take in the whole length of him.

Mordred was aroused and gently soothed the ache himself. When he was done he fell back against the pillows and raised a hand sleepily. When he opened it a ruby ring was sitting in his palm. Guinevere would notice it missing but never admit to Arthur that she'd lost it for fear of hurting him.

 _Rubies. For a virtuous woman,_  he thought and then laughed. He could hear her little pearls of laughter in his mind too.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Elyan's disturbance was the stone thrown in the river and the dissent spread like ripples. The knights shunned him after that and Arthur had to personally ask him to take a few days of rest. Elyan was perplexed over his own actions and swore over and over that he had no idea why he'd acted so ruthlessly. He pleaded to Guinevere to defend him to her husband and so she in turn was shamed when she too had no explanation. Mordred prompted the dissent as much as he dared. When he was asked his opinion he agreed that he should take a few days rest but during dinner he would listen to Leon's distaste and gently encourage it. He offered to take over some of Elyan's duties under the pretense of helping him rest but performed them so well that even Arthur had commented on his ability to multitask. When Guinevere wanted to visit the market he offered before Elyan was even called and she accepted, surprised but pleased. He walked beside her as she visited a few stalls and asked after the owner's health. She played the queen gracefully but Mordred noticed how tired it made her and how her smile started to strain. On the way back to the castle she asked him about her brother.

"I don't wish to speak out of turn, your majesty," he replied patiently.

"Please, I'd like to know."

He tried to look uncomfortable. "He told me that before he was knighted he travelled. I think perhaps he feels stifled here. I think he only stays for you."

Guinevere fell silent but he could tell that she was deep in thought. He guided his horse into the stables with his mood lifted. Later that evening there was an argument in the royal rooms and Elyan left that night. Guinevere sobbed but Arthur remained strong; he'll be back soon, he insisted, he just needs some time to cool down. After that Gwaine, Leon, Vidor, and Brennis stayed to themselves more and the banter between the king and his knight's soured.

Every night he reported the new developments to Morgana. He could've used ravens but he thought it might prompt questions among the court and also he liked hearing her voice too much.

The Lady Morgana was not forgotten in Camelot, even if their minds were elsewhere. Occasionally somebody would bring her up and they would discuss what they should do but no one could come to an agreement. She was still lurking out there, waiting for another chance to crush them, and they should not forget it. Arthur sent men out to scout the land around Camelot but they always came back empty handed. He even sent scouts to the north to see if they could gather any information but it seemed that Morgana had finally found a place to hide.

Mordred knew where she was. Morgana had taken a ship away from Camelot and was mustering an army overseas. She would not tell him much more than that but it was enough to know that she was safely away. Their discussions were always brief and to the point, but sometimes he thought he could hear a trace of amusement or relief in her thoughts. It was a struggle to have only these short exchanges with her when he wanted to touch her and feel her beside him. He spent a lot of time imagining things when alone, especially after a drink. There was no trust between them. It was understandable that she did not fully trust him but he could not count on her either. Her thoughts were unstable, her lust for revenge was always at the foremost, and she was obviously unraveling. He did not  _love_  her. They had both seen so much misery in their lives that the emotion was beyond them now, but something very powerful drew him to her. They were linked somehow.

He began to make his plans to seduce the queen. It was a shame that he had to use Gwaine as the knight had gone along so well with his schemes up until now and Mordred admired his bravado and the way he had built himself up from nothing. He snuck into Gaius's store room like before but for this spell he needed something belonging to both Guinevere and to Gwaine. Gwen was easy enough as she had many trinkets he could pinch but Gwaine was far trickier. He owned nothing to his name apart from his armor and crimson cloak. Eventually Mordred was able to slip into his room and he searched it for something he could use. Just as he plucked some hairs off his pillow the door opened and a plain looking boy came in carrying some clean clothes. When he saw Mordred he hesitated.

"Can I help you, Ser?"

Mordred acted impulsively. With a spell he knocked the boy backwards against the wall and he fell unmoving to the floor. He bent down to check but knew straight away that he was dead. The room started to spin but he gritted his teeth and remained standing. The boy would've told Gwaine what he was up to and he could afford no slip ups now. Still, if anyone found out about this he would be sentenced to death, knight or no knight. He checked the corridor and thankfully it was deserted. Moving the body was difficult but eventually he managed to haul him to the nearest stairs and he kicked him over the edge. He went back for the clothes he'd been carrying and threw them down as well to make it look as though he'd simply fell during his chores, and then rushed back to his room before he could be implicated.

He was halfway through conjuring the spell when he heard the first shriek but continued as though it was nothing. The necklace and hair hovered above the cauldron emitting a soft glow as he murmured the right incantation.

"Do ut facias, Guinevere e Gwaine."

The objects dropped into his outstretched hand and he smiled in triumph. Now all he had to do was wait and see what happened; the spell was potent enough, it encouraged desperation and love, and would weave its own magic on the two. He stored the cauldron and stores back beneath the broken floorboards under his bed and changed for dinner.

The effect was not immediate although he observed the two speaking in the great hall with growing anticipation. He glanced up at Arthur and wondered what he would do once he found his beloved Guinevere in the arms of his loyal knight. Mordred had learnt of Lancelot and how Arthur had almost called off the wedding afterwards but eventually forgiven her. Just to make sure his rouse was realistic he had hidden a scarf of Guinevere's in Gwaine's room to further the suspicions. The boy servant had been found by a laundry maid and it had been declared an accident by all. Gwaine was troubled by the death but he did not think on it – accidents like that happened a lot in large households – and besides, he had other more pressing things to ponder about. Mordred watched as Gwaine suddenly frowned at Gwen and the two moved away from each other in confusion.  _Too close for comfort_ , he thought.

That evening he decided to walk along the battlements of the castle and eventually wound up in the castle gardens. The smell of grass and flowers was a welcoming scent after spending so long inside. He missed the smell of pine and dirt that came with living in the forest and the sound of the birds chirping in the trees above him. He was a Druid and so naturally felt more at home outside. He held out his hands and stood still for a moment, feeling the energy of the earth sink into his very being. He could  _feel_  the magic and let it wash over him in a rush. It felt so heavy now. He had been using only a fraction of what he usually did and he wanted nothing more than to release it. He felt it pent up inside of him. He was a Druid; using his magic felt as natural as breathing to him and resisting it was difficult.

"Mordred?"

He turned and saw that Arthur was watching him curiously. He dropped his hands. "Shouldn't you be inside, your majesty?"

"I needed some fresh air," the king answered. "What were you doing?"

"Just…" he struggled to think of an excuse but Arthur nodded knowingly.

"It must be difficult to live a mortal life after living with magic for so long," he said. "I do appreciate your efforts. Truly."

"It is an honor to serve as a knight of Camelot," Mordred lied easily.  _As though I could take off my magic like a cloak_. "I wish for nothing more."

Arthur smiled at that and clapped him on the shoulder. Mordred was suddenly struck by how similar Arthur's eyes were to Morgana's. Warmer, of course, and honest but they were the exact same shade of blue. He looked into the face of his king and thought it odd that he should be smiling when he was secretly planning to steal his throne. He would crush this man one day, he was certain of that. He would be Arthur's final downfall. "When Morgana asked me to smuggle you out of Camelot all those years ago, I never thought I would be making a friend," Arthur confessed. "You are a true friend to me. I thank you for that. And I thank you for saving me from her."

_I will see you dead._

He nodded to his king as though grateful and Arthur walked back inside.

_Mordred._

He looked around, startled by how clear the thought sounded.

_Mordred, help me._

It sounded as though she was close, but how could she be? He was inside the walls of the castle and though she had found a way into the city even Morgana could not sneak inside here.

_Help me._

He followed the trace, rushing as she pleaded again and again for his help. The desperation in her voice made him worried. The trace led him back inside the castle and up to the highest northern tower. He came to a halt outside her old bedroom and then magically unbolted the door once more. There lay Morgana.

She was reclining back on the dusty bed, her head thrown back in obvious discomfort. Her body shook and her face was drawn up in pain. She was trying very hard to stay conscious. When she saw him she whispered his name.

"What's going on?" He spoke urgently, going at once to her side. She cried out as another contortion racked through her body.

"I was so very far away but I came. I travelled too far."

There were not many magical beings that could master teleportation but Morgana was one of them. This one journey, however, had robbed her of all of her strength. Her powers had been completely drained. Once he realised that she was not in any immediate danger he released the breath he had been holding and carefully lifted her in his arms. If she was discovered here in the castle she would be sent straight to the executioners block and she was not well enough to fight back. He used his powers to cloak them in a shadow and carried her carefully to his own room, thankful that it was late enough for the hallways to be empty.

Once inside he gently lowered her onto his bed and brushed the hair away from her forehead. She had fallen unconscious in his arms but her eyelids fluttered as though she was dreaming. He covered her with the silken sheets and took a seat beside her in case she awoke. In order for her to regain her powers she would need to rest which meant he would need to find a way for them to be undisturbed. The sun rose the next morning but she was still unconscious so he told his manservant through the gap of his door that he was ill and wished to be left alone.

She murmured things in her sleep and he half-listened as he sharpened his sword. There was not a lot that he could do while she was like this so was relieved when she finally woke at noon.

"Mordred?"

"I'm here." He sat beside her on the bed and watched as her gaze slid into focus. He had changed out of his crimson tunic during the night and was now dressed in a plain white shirt and dark breeches. He had removed her heavy furs before tucking her into bed and taken the liberty of unlacing her corset enough so that she could breathe more easily. When her gaze met his she smiled weakly. "You were foolish to come here. What on earth possessed you to make such a journey?"

She was unfazed by his words. "I thought you dead. I could no longer hear you."

"Perhaps you were too far away."

"No," she shook her head, adamant. "Someone was blocking it."

_Merlin._

Merlin had obviously guessed that someone inside the castle was communicating with Morgana and had cast a spell to prevent it. The only thing that worried Mordred, however, was whether or not he knew it was him.

"So you came all this way to make sure I was alive?" Mordred smirked. "Your sentiment is touching."

Morgana ignored him but winced when she tried to sit up. He had to lean over and help her. She then noticed the stray laces of her corset and shot him a look that would've made any other man blush. "Have you been undressing me, dear Mordred? How very perverse of you."

"I was tempted to unlace you further."

Her lips parted into a grin and he felt himself respond. The sun was shining through the glass windows and fell across her raven black hair, making it look as soft as ink. He wanted to take her again then and there but instead rose from the bed. She questioned him. "I'll need to steal into Gaius's stores again if you are to regain your strength quickly. I'll make sure to lock the door."

He changed his clothes before leaving and was not modest about the exposed flesh. Neither had seen the other under their clothes before, even in their most intimate moments, but seeing as they never discussed those times he found it wickedly exhilarating to do so now. To her credit Morgana did not look away but then he hadn't expected her to.

He was tying on his crimson cloak when a knock came from the door.

"I'm indisposed," he called and out of the corner of his eye he saw Morgana tense.

"It's only me," a voice called back and it unmistakably belonged to Merlin. "Gaius has sent me with a tonic."

"One moment." Mordred went to Morgana and helped her to her feet. The only place she could hide was behind the window drapes and once settled he drew it across her. He suddenly remembered hiding behind her curtain all those years ago, while she had been the one to answer the door. He made sure that she was completely hidden before opening the door a crack. "Merlin."

"You're dressed. I thought you'd be in bed," he greeted curiously.

"I'm feeling a lot better now."

"Do you still want the tonic? Gaius just whipped it up."

"I'm fine," Mordred insisted, though somewhat more hurriedly than he expected. He disliked the idea of Merlin being so close to discovering Morgana and he couldn't just kill Merlin as he had with that servant boy.

Merlin regarded him for a moment before drawing closer. His voice was hushed, "Did you cure yourself? You know Arthur will kick you out of here if he finds out."

Mordred's tone suddenly turned icy cold, "I'll bare that in mind,  _Emrys_." Merlin raised an eyebrow but did not reply. He passed Mordred the tonic and left without another word. Mordred locked the door behind him. The idea that he was supposed to stop using his powers while Merlin didn't always irked him. One day he too would be exposed and then see just how kindly people treated him.

He was still scowling when he drew back the curtain but when he saw Morgana's face it slid away. She looked as though she had seen Uther raised from the dead. He looked her up and down searching for any sign that something was wrong but she was holding herself rigid.

"Emrys," she whispered; her eyes wide with panic. " _Merlin_  is Emrys?"

"It is the name my people call him," Mordred explained.  _She knows he has magic?_ "Why does that matter?"

"He will kill me. He is to be my death," she murmured and he was surprised to see unshed tears in her eyes. In that moment she was more human to him than she had ever appeared before. The look of fear on her face was disturbing; he had never seen his look this afraid before either. "It has been prophesised."

Her legs collapsed beneath her and she crumpled to the ground. Mordred immediately went down to his knees beside her and tried to hold onto her hands but she batted him away. "Morgana!"

"It has been seen!" she cried. "Mordred, you must get rid of him. He will kill me if you don't."

He pulled her close as she struggled wildly. Her face was against his chest and he felt her body shake as she tried to draw breath. "You must calm yourself," he urged quietly. "Emrys will not hurt you."

"The Cailleach warned me. I have seen him in my dreams."

Mordred cupped her face in his hands and lifted it so they were only inches apart. Her face was white and wet with tears. Her eyes no longer icy but wide and they darted across his face as though looking for something. He gave it to her. "I have sworn myself to you.  _I_ will not let him hurt you," he said calmly.

She looked at him so eagerly. "Kill him," she whispered. She leant up so that their cheeks touched and her voice was in his ear, whispering words as though she were a serpent. It still managed to send shivers down his spine. "Save me."

He adored the creamy white skin of her neck. It was as soft as satin. He lay a kiss upon it and murmured that he would do all she asked. He always would. He was completely and utterly her creature. She said nothing as he carried her to his bed but her eyes burned.

He did not touch her that night, but felt as though he had won a larger victory.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Morgana recovered quickly, aided partly by the remedy he made from Gaius's stores. Mordred explained to her everything he knew about Merlin and his abilities but it did little to reassure her. She was demented by the idea of her fate. All of the hatred she felt towards Arthur and the intensity she had for the throne now transferred to Merlin. He seemed to plague her dreams and her thoughts. She was adamant that they needed to get rid of him quickly or else she would be doomed. The revelation that it was Merlin startled her. She explained how he had tried to kill her before… "He held me and cried as the poison ate away my insides." Merlin had once been a friend to her and that frightened her. It also made her distant towards Mordred. He had thought, after her initial breakdown, that she would turn to him for comfort but now she seemed embarrassed by her reaction. She painted a mask back over her features and once again seemed to be made from ice. He was certain that he would never see her cry again and he would never bring it up. He adored this queenly Morgana but had a tender spot for her chaotic mad side as well because she tried to keep it private. He usually disliked crying women but he knew that Morgana felt the same way and for some reason that made it bearable. He made no comment on the distance. He would've liked to kiss and touch her whenever he wanted but they just weren't the affectionate type of creatures. They were delighted by impulse, the deluded, and the fantasies.

When she deemed it time to leave they were brief. The journey back would weaken her again but she told him that she would be well cared for on the other end. "You have a talent for ensnaring devotion," he remarked lightly.

"One of my many talents," she replied. She stood in the centre of his room, dressed in her furs once more. Obviously where she was going was cold. They shared a moment of silence before she reached up and brushed his cheekbone. "When I return I will have an army behind me, and you will crown me your queen. What place will you seek, Mordred? Anything you want you shall receive. I do not forget loyalty."

He'd smirked at that, the smile as odd as ever. "We shall see. I have a vague idea."

Morgana nodded. "Then this is goodbye. I shall return soon…If you deliver on your promises you'll have everything you could ever want. If you don't I will personally rip out your lying tongue." Mordred kissed the back of her hand politely and then she disappeared.

He didn't see Merlin until the next day and like always he was trailing behind Arthur, tending to this or that. It would be difficult to get rid of him. He was not like the knights or Arthur and Mordred did not relish the idea of spilling magical blood. If it came down to a magical duel Mordred thought he would have the upper hand but Merlin's power had no doubt increased as well. He would have to think of another way. He didn't necessarily have to kill Merlin. Morgana wanted him gone because he was a threat but if he were to be exiled or removed from Camelot then the problem would be avoided.  _Morgana will hate it_ , he thought. In order to have Merlin exiled he would first have to break Arthur and for that to happen he just had to wait until Gwaine and Guinevere made their move.

It started slowly. The first time he observed it was when he came in late from the training ground and saw the two intimately talking in an empty hallway. They had sprung apart immediately but Guinevere's dress was rumpled and she blushed like a ripe tomato. He pretended not to see but two days afterwards he and Ser Leon were walking along the battlements and they spotted Guinevere and Gwaine embracing. Leon had been outraged and stormed over to demand an explanation from Gwaine.

"We love each other," Gwaine defended, holding onto Guinevere's hand tightly as she sobbed. "We never meant for it to happen, you have to believe that."

"You have betrayed our king!" Leon was furious and urged them to come clean to Arthur, "or else I will."

Nobody ended up telling Arthur – he found out with his own eyes. He had unexpectedly gone to Guinevere's private rooms and found the two intimately embracing. There was an enormous row and he badly wounded Gwaine in a fury before exiling them both from court. "You are both found guilty of treason," an appointed servant had confirmed the next day. "You are hereby exiled from the realm of Camelot under the punishment of death."

Arthur had been surprisingly lenient with their sentences. Mordred discovered why that afternoon when he went to check on the king in his rooms. Arthur had been drinking rather heavily, the reek of wine obvious on his breath. "She's done this before," he mumbled. He spoke to him as a broken man. He was sitting by the window and had not changed or shaved since the discovery. "They can leave together; I will not stand in the way. Everything she has told me has been a stinking great lie…I have shamed the name of Pendragon, of my father." After that he'd taken a long sip from his goblet and settled back in a depressed silence. He refused to see anyone after that and stayed locked up in his rooms. The court was embarrassed by Guinevere's actions and concerned for their golden king. Ambassadors from rival courts sent their sympathies and the maids were instructed to quietly remove all of the traitor queen's belongings from the castle.

Mordred watched it all silently and secretly rejoiced in his success.

Without Guinevere at his side the king shunned his responsibilities. When a group of thieves were caught in the market place he had refused to see them and handed the responsibility of sentencing them over to Leon. He designated more and more of his powers over to his knights and Mordred enjoyed having more authority over the servants and the people of Camelot. He thought of it as a taste of what was to come. Yet soon he knew he would have to do something about Merlin and knew it would be a risk. He was unsure about how the king would react even as crushed and depressed as he was. The king and his manservant seemed to be friends despite their circumstances in life and Mordred couldn't guess what would happen. It was a gamble.

He hid the silver beneath Merlin's bed, as well as Guinevere's ruby ring, and waited until one of the servants found it. It didn't take long. Merlin was brought in front of Ser Leon who seemed astonished by the servant's tale. However he was still surprised over Gwaine's disloyalty and this made him wary of more betrayal. Merlin and Gaius argued and Leon was lost. The king was summoned but fixed Merlin with a blank stare. He asked Mordred what he thought.

"Stealing is unacceptable, sire," he replied. "Treason must be stamped down on –disloyalty grows like weeds here."

Merlin shot him a hurt look but Mordred avoided his eyes, as though abashed.

"Exile then," Leon sentenced. "For a year at least. I'm sorry, Merlin, but it is the king's will," he added and genuinely looked sorry for it. Arthur had turned his back on them all and stormed out of the hall, slamming the door behind him.

Merlin did leave but Mordred suspected that he didn't go very far.  _As long as Morgana doesn't find out_ , he would think.

However, things did not run as smoothly as he hoped.

He sent a raven to Morgana that night, unsure still if his messages were reaching her, but at midnight she replied.

_I will be at the gates in two days._

He spent the rest of the night making sure their plans would come together. Everything seemed to be in place. He longed for the moment when he could greet her like an old friend in front of them all.

Then he sensed Merlin's magic. He was trying to guide him somewhere.

Mordred saddled a horse at dawn and followed the trail. He was unsure about what this could mean but he was not the sort of person to hide from a summoning. Merlin did not frighten him. Even if his powers were stronger than his own he lacked the courage to use them. Morgana had told him about her poisoning, and how Merlin had cried while doing it. He was too much like his king to be ruthless even when it was needed. Merlin brought him to a rotting cottage in the woods several miles away from the castle and stood outside to meet him. In the clearing lay a dead raven and Merlin was holding a little piece of unrolled parchment.  _He knows._

"You are the betrayer." His voice rang out around them in the clearing.

Mordred jumped down from the saddle and stood very still. "Yes," he confirmed.

"Why? Arthur saved your life all those years ago. You stabbed Morgana in the back for him! He's made you a knight, gave you a roof over your head, and made you into somebody. He's your friend!"

_He actually sounds hurt._

"I have always been somebody."

"He trusts you!"

"He's a fool," Mordred replied. "He always has been. You love your king, yet you do not admit to him that you have magic. You are still afraid that he will sentence you to death for it even after everything you have done for him. You cannot deny that, Emrys."

"He's a good king. Honest, fair, brave…One day he will come around to the idea of magic, I know he will," Merlin insisted. "He will be the finest king Camelot has ever known."

"His reign will shortly be coming to an end."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "You intend to replace him with Morgana?"

"Magic is not a crime. We are stronger than those mortals – we should not have to hide. I do not wish for us to be superior. I want equality. I want to be able to pray to the Goddess in the daylight, as I should."

"You think Morgana believes that?" He laughed at him incredulously. "She has you curled around her little finger."

"She can have me wherever she wants."

Merlin flinched at that and Mordred smirked. He was not going to shy away from what had happened. He was proud to be worthy of her at last and would one day walk beside her as an equal. He doubted that Merlin had ever had such a chance.

Eventually Merlin spoke. "She will make Camelot burn."

"I will not let that happen," he answered confidently.

"You cannot hope to control her. She's mad. She is beyond the reach of help now."

"She will listen to me."

"You have been misled." The look he now threw him was part pity. "Morgana feels nothing for anyone. All she cares about is power."

It was this more than anything else that made Mordred attack first. He pushed his hand forward and slammed the surprised Merlin back against the house. It splinted beneath his weight. "You speak of things you don't understand."

Merlin panted and lurched to his feet. "I know her better than you."

"You made her this way! You turned your back on her. You poisoned her when she would have sacrificed herself willingly to save those she loved. You tossed her away as though already beyond your help. You  _cried_  for it, yes, but you turned your back on her first." He was pleased when Merlin turned a shade of white at his words and looked sickened.

"She was already turning on us…"

"No. She deserved the chance of redemption. She was just alone and frightened. You did this!"Merlin used his magic to fire a curse at Mordred, who quickly summoned a shield to defend himself. He taunted him, "Have I struck a nerve, Emrys?"

"Whatever I have done I regret. But it doesn't matter now," Merlin admitted as he threw another curse. "She cannot be queen!"

Mordred blocked it and threw one back. Merlin ducked so instead it exploded against the side of the house and made a part of it collapse. "She is not yet beyond redemption."

Merlin successfully managed to uproot the roots of a nearby tree and used them to knock Mordred off his feet. "You think you can save her? Even now?" He came closer to him and Mordred saw a flash of a knife.  _So he does have it in him._

He uprooted a tree of his own and sent it crashing down towards them, pinning Merlin's arm beneath it and hurting his own in the process. He used his powers to lift the knife and turned it around to face Merlin. He was panting as well, the pain in his arm burned through him. "Even now," he agreed. "But first you will die. I tried to hide you away but Morgana has commanded it."

Merlin cried out when it stabbed him in the chest and then fell silent. Mordred left him as he lay and did not look back but try as he might Merlin's words stayed with him.  _You cannot hope to control her. She's mad. Morgana feels nothing for anyone. All she cares about is power. I know her better than you._  He was wrong. He had seen Morgana's fire, tasted her magic, and felt her tears against his skin. She had almost killed herself travelling here just to make sure he was alive. Mordred turned his horse back towards Camelot with blood on his cloak and Merlin's last words in his stomach.

Morgana was true to her word. The very next day there was a cry of warning bells when the army was first spotted on the horizon. The city fell into panic and Mordred watched from the battlements. The army looked to be two thousand men strong and above it flew a pure white dragon. "Morgana," Leon whispered from beside him. "She must've killed our scouts."

"We're powerless," Mordred spoke calmly but inside his heart was racing. The sun was rising up from behind the army and made it look even more impressive. He wondered if she would come in bloodshed or peace. "You may as well open the gates and greet her. This is the end."

 


	6. Chapter 6

She didn't arrive into Camelot like a queen, there were no carriages or trumpets to announce her presence, but she looked every inch the Goddess. She rode on the back of a pure white dragon whose blood red eyes spat fury. Her raven black hair blew back in the wind and even from his position in the courtyard he could see an expression of ecstasy on her face. The gates had indeed been opened and it took only an hour to capture Arthur and flush out his remaining loyal knights. Her warriors were exotic with slick olive skin and honeyed eyes. They wore only strange animal pelts as their armor but when Mordred saw them fight he understood their carelessness; their armor was in their swords. They were keen swordsmen who believed that armor was strictly for women and cowards. There were few casualties as the majority of the people decided it would best to surrender quietly but one or two hot headed individuals tried to fight back with fatal consequences. Soon enough the men had prodded the king and his knights into the courtyard where Morgana made her descent. The dragon screamed once it touched the ground but Morgana simply burst into little pearls of laughter. One of the largest men went forward and swung her down with ease - his hands alone looked large enough to crush a skull.

The man went down to his knees and spoke with a heavy deep accent, "The city is yours, my queen."

Morgana grinned. Mordred had been flushed out of the castle with the rest and now stood beside Arthur and Gwaine and watched as she looked around at them all, taking in the faces. He remained still but was aware of the knots in his stomach.

"Camelot is mine," she called out. "And at last it shall be put right."

Beside him Arthur had his head bowed, his golden hair barely hiding his face. They were all chained together and he could feel the chains shake as Arthur sobbed silently.

"Dear Lief," Morgana continued and gazed up at the exotic man that Mordred assumed was the leader of this great army. "Your army has helped me win this city. Anything you ask for shall be yours…"

_Anything?_

"My wish is to serve you. Only to serve," Lief replied quietly, bowing his head.

"I do not forget loyalty…"

She turned and faced him, finally. She did not grin at him but her eyes were burning once more. She was no longer dressed in her normal fraying skirts and furs but in rich velvet robes of red and silver that pinched in at her waist and flowed outwards, the points of her sleeves reaching the ground. A diamond the size of a fist hung at her neck. She looked irresistibly royal. Irresistibly wild.

 _And you…what will you ask for?_ She thought as she stepped in front of him.

_What can you offer me?_

Mordred was wearing the red cloak of Camelot and so she gently reached up to undo the clasp. It fell to the ground, the Pendragon crest discarded at once in the dust. Neither looked down at it.

_Do you wish to serve me?_

He saw a smile begin to tug at her lips. Her hair looked as though it had once been drawn back in some elaborate style but the wind – and dragon riding – had made it come undone. Mordred found he preferred it this way. She reached up to brush his cheek in what was almost a timid gesture, and he heard the knights around them murmur. He held his heavy chains out.

_In every way I will serve you… Always._

Morgana touched his chains and they slowly vanished, melting into nothing.

"I swear by the Goddess…I live to serve you."

Shouts rang up, enraged, as he proclaimed his loyalty.

"You were a knight! Does honour mean nothing to you?" Leon demanded, struggling against his binds. "Traitor!"

"Not your sort of honour, ser."

Leon swore at them but then, surprisingly, Arthur spoke. His voice was hushed and cracked. "Morgana…please. Let him go. You've hurt so many already…"

Morgana moved as though to strike him but Mordred replied instead. "I have chosen this path; I have always been Morgana's. Only when the magic leaks from my blood will I leave her side."

Arthur couldn't even meet his eyes.  _He is so weak_ ;  _I have destroyed him._ "Camelot will never be yours."

"Camelot  _is_ mine," Morgana snapped. "You are beaten, Arthur, look around you. I have won."

"You'll never win. You will never be content, sister. That's your undoing."

Morgana struck him across the face and shouted to her guards. "Lock him in the darkest dungeon. He will never again feel daylight on his skin." They hurried to obey and Lief stepped forward.

"What of the rest?"

"Execute them."

They watched as the knights were dragged off and then Mordred offered her his arm. He noticed that the light had left her face and once again she was frowning. Her triumph had not lasted long. "Arthur vexes you still," he guessed.

"Always."

"You could have him executed now." Together they walked into the castle and made for the throne room. Around them Morgana's army was rounding up the last few servants. Two had brought up a keg from the stores and were sat on the stone steps drinking. They hailed Morgana as she passed.

Morgana didn't order the execution of Arthur. For reasons she could not explain she kept him locked away in one of the largest dungeons and grew angry if anyone mentioned him. She visited him once or twice alone but the guards reported that she never spoke to him, just sat there and watched. Instead he and her exotic new friend Lief were left to arrange the coronation. Guests were invited from across the land; druids, priestesses, magicians, warlocks…all those who had been in hiding under the Pendragon reign. Mordred knew where most of them were hiding, having met them during his time as a child, and rightly guessed that Morgana would need to surround herself with magical allies in order to strengthen her claim. The guards she brought from across the sea kept the common folk of Camelot in line but she had yet to address them. The last time she tried that here she had kissed several of the civilians with a crossbow and Mordred hoped she would not act as rashly this time. _I'll be beside her when she talks to them_ , he decided. Overall the peasants had little say over what Morgana was doing but it couldn't hurt to try and get them on side. Once they saw the benefits of having magic around again, hopefully, they would come around.

Mordred took on a lot of the responsibilities and thrived. He knew the most about magical customs, about who they would need on their side, and where to find them. Morgana in turn knew about the court and outlined the court structure to him. They enjoyed a particularly late night filling in the empty spots with their favourites.

Her coronation took place three weeks after the seizure of Camelot. The throne room was crowded with magical people. The Druids in their green robes, high and low priestesses, stern warlocks, common healers, and even three kings from lands afar who agreed with magical toleration and wished to offer their support. Everybody in the room was a child of the Goddess and even the coronation speech had been rewritten by a priestess to pay tribute to her. Morgana would defend the customs of both magical and normal peoples together and enforce widespread toleration. She dressed in a rich robe of pure white silk, modestly cut with a high neckline that reached her jaw and long sleeves. Her soft hair was elegantly pulled back and a rune had been painted on either cheek to symbolise both harmony and strength. The crown they gave her was wrought from silver, encrusted with precious magical jewels. It shone on her head when she took the throne and she was given thunderous applause.

Mordred stood at the front with the other Druids and when she met his gaze they both grinned.

"Queen Morgana! Morgana, the First of Her Name!"

Afterwards there was feasting in the great hall, followed by a huge celebration. There were musicians, mummer's, and even the odd Fool capering about. Dishes of exotic food were served alongside local fare and the wine was running freely. Mordred was the first to ask for her hand and they danced together like he imagined, laughing and gently teasing one another. After that she happily danced in the arms of anyone who asked while Mordred watched, amused, over his cups.

Tonight he would get what he was owed.

He watched as she twisted and turned in the arms of Lief. He was so large that she looked like a child beside him but he was surprisingly graceful when he moved. He watched as Lief leant down to whisper something into her ear and felt something inside him stir. She'd spent a long time in his company abroad while she pleaded for his army. What was his price? Had she already given it to him?

_Now._

She looked at him and Mordred pointedly left the room. The rest of the castle was silent since most of the residents were either inside the great hall celebrating or back in their rooms. He walked slowly towards the empty throne room and went inside, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor. The room looked just like it had under Arthur's reign except now there were runes carved into some of the beams and the round table had been burnt in the public square. Morgana was also planning to replace several of the stained glass windows but they had yet to find an architect who could deliver the delicate work she wanted. It didn't take her long to follow and he heard her bolt the doors behind her. When he looked back he saw that she had pulled her hair free and it fell around her shoulders in soft curls.

"The first time I stepped into this room I was a little girl of ten," she greeted quietly. "The room looks smaller now."

"My lady?"

She stopped a few paces away from him, her hands clasped together. They were just in front of the throne.  _Her_  throne. Mordred had dressed up for the occasion in a dark green tunic lined with silver and a pair of black breeches tucked into bronzed boots. He'd worn a rich velvet cloak for the ceremony but it had been pulled off sometime during the dancing. "You have given me everything you promised."

Mordred smirked. "And are you pleased?"

"Wonderfully so."

She looked so beautiful standing there before him, draped in the moonlight. He recalled the sight of her standing before the lake in the moon's glow but decided that this was the better image…this time she wore a crown and wasn't threatening to flay him. She was still wearing the high necked dress from her coronation but if possible the lack of flesh seemed even more tempting. It clung to her every curve and made him want to tear it off. Without hesitating he laced an arm around her waist and pulled her mouth up to his. Her lips were cold and he could taste fine wine on them. He had drunk a fair amount of ale himself but not enough to cloud his head. He felt her wind her arms around his neck and he kissed her jaw.

"Have you undressed for him?" he murmured.

"Jealous?"

She tried to resume the kiss but in one smooth motion he snatched hold of her neck. Morgana cried out and behind them a vase smashed. "Unhand me!"

"Have you?"

"No."

Mordred let go but then Morgana slapped him. His cheek stung from the impact and they stared at each other for a few seconds, panting. And then, humbly, Mordred leant forward to plant a kiss on the arch of her neck. He followed the line up to her ear and felt her resolve crumble. She let out a sigh and laced her arms around him once more.

"What can I give you, Mordred? How can I show my gratitude?" she whispered, her breath now hot against the side of his face. Mordred moved his hands down her body, taking in every slim curve. With one hand he brushed her skirts up and let his fingers trail up her thighs.

"Make me your king."

She moaned and then grinned wickedly, her fingers entwined in his hair. "You wish to rule over me?" She did not look surprised.

"Rule beside you. With you."

"In me?"

He kissed her almost gently. "Is that a yes?"

Her response was to push him back into the thrown. Morgana tilted her head, smirking, and lifted her skirts before slowly straddling him. He placed his hands on her thighs and stroked upwards until they were on her bare hips. When she brushed down against him he groaned. "Yes."

Their lips met once more and she pulled away only to hurriedly pull his tunic up over his head. He tore her white dress down to the waist so that her breasts were bared and then suddenly took one in his mouth. Morgana moaned in response and grinded hard against him. The feel of their skin touching was mesmerizing and the first time they had shared such closeness. He found that he was pulling her closer and took pleasure in kissing every inch of her warm flesh. After what seemed an age her fingers found his laces and freed his arousal. When she took him inside her he let out a groan and guided her hips so that she had the whole of him. Their breaths became drawn and Morgana kissed him softly on the forehead as she put her hands on his shoulders. She teased him for a moment, moving so _achingly_  slowly upwards only to plunge back down.

They fucked furiously, their sweat dripping down onto the throne and their moans echoing in the silent room. They came together and several of the stained glass windows smashed in response, the glass skidding across the floor. When they were finished they were panting and wearing expressions of wonder. Mordred took her hand and brought her fingers up to his lips.

"Husband…"

"Wife."

Sunrise found them sitting in a window seat in Morgana's new rooms. The window was open, filling the room with crisp coldness, but Morgana was sat between his legs with her back resting against him and they had a blanket wrapped around their bodies to keep warm. Her head was tipped back against his shoulder but she was awake and lazily watching the sun rise over the horizon. On her ring finger gleamed a red ruby ring.

They hadn't spoken much that morning, except for a few gentle words and promises. At one point, just after he'd slipped the ring on her finger, Mordred thought about confessing his heart to her but deemed it unwise for the moment. They could talk of undying love but they weren't really the sort for it.

This was just enough.


	7. Chapter 7

The following day Morgana called a meeting in the council chamber and Mordred sat to her left, studying the others as they arrived. All were loyal to the Goddess, bar the priest Jacob, and all had sworn oaths to Morgana. Present around the table was Lief, who sat to her right; Lady Vivienne, a high priestess who represented Avalon here at court; blond young Casius for the Druids; and several others who represented different magical fractions. Priest Jacob's inclusion had been an idea of Lady Vivienne's as he spoke for the Christians and she was anxious that they would not feel excluded. They sat quietly, waiting for Morgana to arrive, and were plainly uncomfortable around each other. It was still strange for some of them, the ones who had been hiding for decades, to sit with each other in the open daylight. Casius in particular scowled at anyone who tried to speak to him. They all rose when Morgana entered and she took her seat at the end of the table, greeting them quietly. He met her eyes expectantly but instead of announcing their betrothal she spoke of some civilian uprising. He waited for the inevitable announcement all morning but when she dismissed them at noon she avoided his eyes and hurried away.

Disappointment and anger coursed through his veins. Morgana had always been impulsive and rash, this he knew too well, but he would not let her change her mind this time. She had succumbed to lust but deep down there was still a spark between them. Something drew them together. They were always meant to unite; mind, body, and spirit. He would not let her slip through his fingers. That evening he went to her rooms but to his surprise found two guards positioned outside the doors. They bared it with crossed spears.

"Let me through," Mordred ordered impatiently.

The guard on the left shuffled nervously. "Nobody is allowed through, Ser. Our orders come from the queen."

"I will not ask again…" His voice rose and Morgana herself appeared at the door looking bothered. She nodded her ascent and the guards stepped aside to let him pass. Once inside he slammed the door and whirled around to face her. "Who are they?"

"Lief suggested them," Morgana explained. She had been dining alone and slid back down into her chair. She poured him a glass of wine and he took it silently, "It is normal for the queen to have guards."

"I will not be barred from your room."

She used a sharp little knife to peel an apple and kept her eyes averted away from him. A fire was lit in the hearth and it scattered shadows across the room. "It will not happen again. I promise it."

"You promised me your hand," he reminded her quietly. "We are bound beneath the Goddess. You wear my ring on your finger."

"I haven't forgotten!" she hissed.

"You said you would tell them this morning."

For the first time she hesitated and in one hand she toyed with the knife. "I cannot tell them yet. Everything is so unstable, Mordred. If I tell them you are to be my husband they will revolt against me."

"I am one of the most powerful Druids in the land…"

Morgana finally met his gaze and he saw a flash of resentment in their depths.

"It matters little. They want to match me with a Christian prince in order to bind the two religions and bring about peace. A new age, so to speak. A man has been mentioned from a nearby land. He is said to be sympathetic to the Goddess."

"You swore yourself to  _me_ , Morgana," Mordred replied at length. He was furious but managed to keep his hands steady and voice quiet. No doubt "they" were the Lady of the Lake and their resident priest Jacob. He would rather strangle this prince than let the two be joined together in peace. "There is something between us drawing us together, there always has been. You feel it too."

She flinched but did not disagree. "They will revolt."

"They will not. Not if we stand together," he added coolly. He held out his hand and after a few seconds she took it. "You will announce it on the 'morrow."

Morgana did indeed announce their betrothal the following day and the reaction was just as she had expected. Stunned, her councilors tried for hours to talk her out of it but she remained stubborn, causing the angry Lady Vivienne to storm out of the room. The priest had tried reasoning with her, explaining that the union of both Christianity and the Goddess would secure widespread peace in Camelot and the surrounding lands. Didn't she want that? He'd asked curiously. A peaceful balance.

"I have said all that I mean to on the matter," she'd replied coldly. "And it is final. I will marry Ser Mordred."

"You cannot do this, my queen," Lief had objected.

"Cannot? I can do anything I like…I am your  _queen_."

The news spread across the castle like wildfire. Mordred had prepared himself for the inevitable backlash but underestimated just how many people were against the match. He heard a dozen whispers of "traitor" behind his back and the councilors were cold and unforgiving. It wasn't just the fact that he prevented a Christian-Magical alliance, but his low birth and past actions were dragged out too. The words "peasant", "jumpstart", and even "backstabber" were not uncommon. They all saw him as a scheming traitor and ignored any of the good work he had already accomplished as Morgana's aid. He could've shrugged all of this off without much care, but unfortunately the slurs in time transferred to Morgana too. She was willing to crown a known traitor and this did not sit well with the castle's inhabitants, who were already wary of their new queen.

"They say I am a fool," Morgana murmured. She spoke quietly but he could still hear the steel in her tone. They were sat together in the grounds with Aithusa. Morgana took pleasure in being close to the dragon and treated her as carefully as if she were of her own flesh. She nestled into the dragon's neck and made soothing noises.

"You shouldn't listen to them," he advised.

"What if they abandon me…I  _need_  them." She scowled at that and he realised how difficult it was for her to admit it. "Arthur didn't need anyone."

"They won't leave," Mordred promised.

"You've seen the future?" she asked bitterly. "Do you know that for certain?"

The wind was teasing her long hair across her face and so he gently smoothed it back. "You should be enjoying yourself, not worrying. A queen should be able to choose what she wants. And you  _want_  to marry me, don't you?" He asked, aware that his tone sounded more than a little anxious. She could reject him now and back away from their agreement but for once she was reassuring.

"I want you at my side. Always," she confirmed.

The councilors scheduled their wedding for the following month. They demanded the wait in order to show that Morgana wasn't "rushing into it" for improper reasons, but that just made Mordred laugh. Their night time visits were no secret; neither particularly bothered with hiding their relationship and so it was practically common knowledge. Her guards witnessed him slipping in and out of her rooms at all hours of the night and she was not subtle in her intentions either…once she had even dismissed the council early in order to be alone with him. It was highly improper but then they weren't the most conventional pair. Their lust seemed to be limitless. Mordred savored the moments just after sunrise when he slipped from her bed and could admire the view of her naked body while he dressed. He liked to watch her wake up in the morning…watch as life roused her from her dreams. She often spoke in her sleep and had nightmares. He would hold her close at such times and gently comb her hair with his fingers. She in turn liked to watch him undress and would kiss every inch of his flesh until he was a shaking wreck. After their announcement they took even less care and he spent nearly every night with her in her rooms. It wouldn't surprise him if she was carrying his child, but at the same time allowed the council their small pretence.

The only thing he was not happy about, however, was Morgana's continuous visits to Arthur. He was still kept in the dungeons but had been given a bed and even a manservant to wait on him. He tried questioning her but she always managed to change the conversation. Once he even tried to follow her but she'd shouted at him and thrown a pitcher at his head. Sometimes she murmured his name in her sleep and Mordred would have to swallow the hot rush of jealousy.

Their path seemed certain now, but little did they know forces were already mustering against them.

Two weeks before the wedding saw a peasant revolt that killed over two dozen of Lief's men. Lief was furious and in retaliation executed the ringleaders and their families. After that people started disappearing, although there was never any sign of a struggle. It seemed that people were deliberately sneaking out of Camelot but to where they could only guess. "Deserters must be made an example of," Morgana shakily decreed. "Have your guards stand look out. Anyone trying to leave will have their knees shattered for insolence." Lief's guards increased their look out duties and had to punish anyone they found, but the sight of men and women with their knees shattered inspired only anger among the citizens and more managed to leave. When Mordred heard about the new rule he demanded that Morgana change her mind but she had ignored him, her face blank and hardened. She spent more and more time in her solar, looking at her runes and holding Aithusa. Sometimes Mordred would look her in the face and see nothing staring back at him. She began to look tired and unsettled. Her hair was messy from the constant tossing and turning in bed and her eyes were too bright. The beautiful dresses she wore, that had once clung to her soft curves, hung loose around her waist and chest.

Mordred would hold her and feel her shaking like a leaf against him.

News came, then, of a rebellion. Not just a peasant revolt but a full scale rebellion that took shape in an army. Her outriders spotted it first and reported that it was only three days ride away. It seemed that the Lady Vivienne had formed an alliance with the Christians and a number of other kings in order to replace her. Morgana was deemed a risk, and one that would be chaotic to Camelot's future. Morgana had stilled at that… but when she found out that Arthur had escaped she screamed and smashed several windows.

"It's your fault," she hissed at Mordred and batted his arms away. "Get out of my sight!"

He let her shout and scream until she lost her breath and only then did he take his leave. Their betrothal was only part of the reason for this rebellion. Morgana had always been known to be unstable and impulsive but the Lady Vivienne assumed that she could be controlled. Morgana had shown her otherwise and so now Lady Vivienne wished to supplant her with someone who could be; someone who would tolerate Christianity and the Goddess, someone who could be molded, and someone who badly needed an army to take back his throne. Arthur promised that he would allow magical toleration if the Lady of Avalon helped him and so led the rebellion.

Morgana and Mordred stood on the balcony of her solar and watched as the army marched on their walls. Aithusa screeched behind them.

"So this is how it ends…" Morgana whispered. "When I was Uther's ward I always imagined I would be married by now, to some faraway prince or king. I would birth him a litter of children and die an old hag in her bed. For a time I even believed they would be Arthur's…and now here he is to destroy me."

They could see Arthur at the head of the army, clad in silver and red. The few of his knights who managed to escape were beside him. As was Merlin.

"You lied to me."

Mordred was holding onto the wall, the brick rough beneath his grasp. He listened to Morgana's mumblings but didn't really take them in. For the first time in a long while he was unsure of his next move.

"You told me he was dead."

"I thought he was…" he replied honestly. "I left him for dead."

"Emrys." She was laughing now, her shoulders shaking with the effort. The look on her face was hysterical. Suddenly the panic seemed to smother him and he tried to shake her shoulders.

"Go ahead," she taunted and pushed him away. "Tell me we're going to be fine."

They would both be executed, that much was for certain. Morgana would be too dangerous to keep alive and he had sworn his life to her. Mordred turned to her, expecting her to bat him away again, but instead he found her sober. She let him step up behind her and slide his arms around her shoulders.

_I regret nothing._

There was no point in lying or concealing anything anymore and she sighed in reply, understanding immediately his train of thought. If this was to be there last moment alone together he would speak his mind. "I have strived all my life to be worthy of you."

"You think that much of me?" she whispered. "After everything I have done…I am but a shadow of my former self. A shade. I have hurt  _so many_  people."

"You are blood and flesh," he kissed the curve of her neck. "You can do no wrong in my eyes."

"Mordred, I…"

He hushed her and tightened his hold. He breathed in the smell of her hair and her skin, feeling as he did the familiar stirrings inside. He knew what she wanted to say, that she loved him with her very soul, but couldn't bear to hear it said now. Not like this. "I know."

He held her as she cried and felt a few hot tears fall from his own eyes. They ran down his cheeks and into her inky black hair. She shook in his arms when they saw the army break down the main gates and then suddenly the warning bells began to clang.

"This will be our last sunset," he whispered.

"And it is beautiful."


	8. Chapter 8

 

Epilogue 

* * *

 

When Arthur entered the throne room he hesitated. Morgana was sitting on the throne, clad only in her nightdress after being dragged from bed. The fighting had continued all night and Camelot was now littered with bodies and smoke. Mordred sat on the carved steps by Morgana’s feet and watched Arthur and his knights with a faint expression of bewilderment.

Morgana’s shrieks had echoed across the room like a slap. _“It will never be over! This is my right and I’ll always fight for it. You may have won this time round but I’ll be back with another army. Again and again. I will never stop!”_

She screamed and threw herself at Arthur, her fingernails clawing at his face. She was oblivious to his words, deaf to any commands, and totally beyond reason. It seemed that she had finally cracked. She had always been volatile but this was the push needed to send her crashing over the edge, wailing and shrieking. Arthur and a couple of his knights had to wrestle her to the ground before she stopped and even then she managed to spit in his face.

Mordred sat still and did nothing as the scene played out before him. He had prepared himself for the end - for the executioner’s block. He’d stayed away from Morgana’s chambers last night and instead walked the length of the castle walls, watching as the battle raged beneath him. He had been _so sure_ of their future together and confident in their plans.

_How had it come to this?_

Arthur sentenced them with his gaze cast down, avoiding their faces.

The day of their execution arrived but at the last minute Vivienne, high priestess of Avalon, came forth to suggest Morgana return with her to the misty island. There she would be able to serve the Goddess in silence while being kept under guard at all times. Arthur agreed, obviously relieved, but Morgana showed no such emotion. She laughed wildly but the look she gave Vivienne was one of pure loathing. Mordred was excused as well, but exiled from Camelot and its surrounding lands. Arthur tried to maintain that Mordred had fallen under some spell of Morgana’s no matter how many times Mordred contradicted him.

_It is easier for him to pretend._

He woke too late on the morning of Morgana’s departure. All that was left of her in the cell was a frayed shawl and a lingering scent of her perfume.

He rushed to the window and watched as she was bundled unceremoniously into a waiting wagon. She was wearing a thick cloak of fur with the hood drawn but she must’ve felt his gaze for she looked straight up at him. A flicker of her lips and then she was gone; gone to her island prison, walled behind old stone, mists, and enchantments. He would never see her again.

_Morgana._

He tried to find her thoughts but her mind was lost to him now. Lost, probably, even to herself. All he could hear was screaming. Morgana, the First of Her Name, was now a shattered body of bones and memories.

He was condemned to a harsh life of solitude and loneliness. He was taken far away from Camelot, to a place of mountains and cold winds. Only once did he return with the intention of seeking Morgana but Avalon was too closely guarded and he could not pass the mists. Instead he sat at the water’s edge, just hoping for a _glimpse_ of the island beyond. He wandered the land for an age, growing older and older, until his beard was long and peppered with grey and he found it difficult to move his weak limbs.

Decades after their downfall the news came that Morgana had very purposefully walked into the lake and allowed the current to drag her under. On that day he heard her shout his name, over and over in a chant. When he stepped into the icy cold water he let it pull him slowly under without hesitation. His own end was gentle and swift.

_The Goddess forgive our sins._

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
